


Say My Name, Say My Name

by lightwoody



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angry Alec Lightwood, Angry Magnus Bane, Arguing, Immortality, M/M, alec is just really scared, and he doesnt know what else to do, and magnus just wants alec to know he loves him, he doesnt want to hurt magnus, no matter what and no matter how much time they may or may not have, someone please let them Rest, they both deserve nice things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 14:04:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11060535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightwoody/pseuds/lightwoody
Summary: “Magnus’ immortality and Alec’s inevitable future death loomed over their heads every waking hour of the day, and even attempting to forget, to think of anything else, seemed damn near impossible.”





	Say My Name, Say My Name

Alec could not say how long he had been out walking aimlessly along the cold streets of New York, his mind having wandered to less than desirable places. In his rush to get out of the loft he had not grabbed a jacket or a scarf or anything to protect him from the sting of the bitter winter winds. He could think of nothing that sounded more pleasant than returning to his boyfriend and bundling up together in the blankets of their bed, their limbs tangled perfectly. 

The thought of Magnus pierced Alec’s heart like it was one of his own arrows, and he suddenly knew how every demon he had ever shot felt in the last moments of their lives. He felt that if he looked down at his chest that he would see blood trickling out slowly from the wound, staining his skin and clothes with a perpetual reminder of everything that he feared in the world. He spared a quick glance at the skin above his heart, trying to find the source of this endless pain, but he came up empty. Somehow he knew that having physical evidence of this dreadful internal ache would have made it so much easier. Having something _tangible_ to tie his feelings to would make them feel valid and acceptable. Instead he stood in front Magnus’ building, feeling more naive and foolish than he ever had before. 

This fight had been no different from the others. Magnus’ immortality and Alec’s inevitable future death loomed over their heads every waking hour of the day, and even attempting to forget, to think of anything else, seemed damn near impossible. 

It was Alec’s fault and he knew it but he always felt so selfish. The thought of Magnus dying ripped through him like a bullet and made him sick to his stomach. It was a feeling he would never wish upon anyone, and he had soon realized that Magnus probably felt that feeling every day. How he could live like that, with the weight of this unbearable truth crushing his chest until it felt like he was unable to breathe, Alec could not understand. 

Magnus had screamed that he knew the risks and that he was willing to take them, but Alec wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he ever caused Magnus any type of pain. Imagining Magnus, 60 years from now, left to grieve by himself, made Alec physically nauseous. His love for Magnus was so fierce that if he had to, for Magnus’ sake, he would leave. No matter how hard it was, no matter how agonizing it would be to live without Magnus lighting up his life like a thousand suns, Alec would give it all up if it meant protecting Magnus. 

But for now, all Alec did as he walked up the steps to the loft was curse himself for being a weak, weak man. 

Alec stood in front of the familiar set of double doors contemplating whether or not he should even go inside. He feared that maybe Magnus didn’t want to see him, and that he would send him away as soon as he stepped through the door. Or maybe he had already altered his wards to keep Alec out. The thought made Alec’s hand shake as he attempted multiple times to fit the key inside the doorknob, and he ended up dropping it as anxiety washed over him violently.

Alec dropped to the ground and sat against the wall next to the door, trying to calm the erratic beating of his heart against his chest. He ran his hands through his hair and put his head between his knees. And although he was the one who had made Alec so nervous that he couldn’t even unlock a goddamn door, he thought about Magnus. He thought about his smile, and how his eyes sparkled when he laughed. He thought about his voice, how it was almost like songlike; the softest melody in the world. He thought about the way he felt when Magnus touched him, sometimes peaceful and calm and _safe_ , and sometimes passionate and wild and _hot_. 

Alec took a deep breath and stood back up, slipping the key into the door knob and opening the door ever so slightly. Nothing happened. 

He proceed to walk inside, and just like every other time he came to the loft, he was engulfed in comfort and warmth and the feeling that he was home. That this was where he belonged. 

Alec looked up and froze. 

Magnus was sitting in his armchair, his chin was pointed and his gaze was unforgiving. He looked like a king, sitting upon the highest of thrones. His lips were wrapped around the rim of his glass of Scotch and Alec’s blood ran cold when he saw the bottle sitting on the table next to Magnus, almost empty.

Magnus rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Oh lighten up, I’m 800 years old. I can hold my liquor.” His voice would have sounded annoyed and irritated to anyone who didn’t know him well enough, but Alec could tell that it was really just a facade. Magnus was hurting; Alec saw it in the small tremble of his lips, he heard it in the way he sounded just slightly unsure, he even felt it in deep in his bones, through a connection he had to Magnus that he could not even begin to comprehend in all its complexities. 

“You aren’t 800 years old, Magnus,” Alec said instantly. He was used to Magnus lying about his age. He had heard everything from Magnus claiming to be alive for the establishment of the Ottoman Empire in the year 1299 to his stories about witnessing the crowning of William The Conquerer as the first King of England in 1066. Alec figured it was to help maintain an air of mystery to himself, to keep everyone around him constantly on their toes. 

“What does it matter how old I am?” Magnus asked bitterly. “What does anything matter when you’re immortal? Apparently nothing, according to you, my sweet.” The term of endearment rolled sourly off of Magnus’ tongue like whip, slashing Alec across the chest, with absolutely no remorse. 

“Stop twisting my words!” Alec yelled, clenching his hands into fists by his sides. “That’s not what I meant, Magnus!” His chest was rising and falling rapidly, and he could feel his face flushing with anger. He just wished Magnus could understand. He couldn’t give Magnus what he deserved; he couldn’t give him an eternity. 

“Then what _did_ you mean?!” Magnus shouted, slamming his drink down on the table as he stood up, the alcohol spilling out of the glass. Alec jumped, hardly ever having heard Magnus raise his voice before. He had heard the same voice during Izzy’s trial, and also when he had been on the brink of killing Raphael. It was not something Alec enjoyed hearing, especially when it was directed towards him. 

“I can’t- I just-” Alec pulled at his hair, pacing. He just wanted Magnus to get it, to see how guilty this made him feel. He rubbed his face in his hands and turned around, just trying to _think_. 

“Any day now,” Magnus mocked, crossing his arms. 

Alec groaned in frustration and turned back to face Magnus. “Magnus, what if I was hurting, and you knew it was your fault and the guilt was eating you _alive_?”

Magnus’ jaw clenched, knowing where Alec was going with this. 

“What if there was only one way to stop it and you knew what it was? If you knew what you had to do, would you do it?” Alec’s voice ended on a whisper and his throat was beginning to close. He bit his cheek, trying to keep his emotions at bay. 

Magnus said nothing, which only spurred Alec on. 

“I can’t do this, Magnus!” Alec yelled, his voice betraying him as it cracked. “I can’t give you all of myself when I know it’s only temporary! I can’t sit here and act like nothing’s wrong when I know that one day I’m going to have to leave you! It’s tearing me apart, Magnus, knowing that you’ll have to watch me _die_.” Tears were now freely falling down Alec’s cheeks, and he swiped at them quickly. 

“That’s not your choice to make, Alec!” Magnus screamed, his magic sparking red from his fingers with his overflowing anger. His cat’s eyes glistened with barely contained tears. Alec thought they were tragically beautiful.

“Don’t you dare call me that,” Alec seethed, but his voice remained steady. 

“Call you what?!” Magnus threw his hands in the air in exasperation. 

“Don’t stand there and call me Alec as if you don’t _care_ ,” Alec whispered, closing his eyes against the tears. 

Magnus was quiet for a moment, and then, “ _Alexander_.” 

“I _hate_ you,” Alec said, his voice now unsteady, and his hands shaking as he rushed forward and grabbed Magnus by the collar of his shirt. He crashed their lips together and now he could finally breathe. Magnus’ lips were like oxygen, and Alec was desperate for air. Their kiss was desperate and wanting, and Alec tasted the salt of their tears on his tongue. Kissing Magnus was addictingly dizzying, and Alec always found himself coming back for more, like an addict returning to the source of their addiction. Alec’s hands found their way under Magnus’ shirt, touching the warm skin underneath. Magnus sighed and fell into Alec at the touch. Somehow, being this close to Magnus, breathing all of him in, made Alec feel like everything would be okay. 

“Say it again,” Alec muttered, his voice weak. He clutched Magnus like a lifeline, wanting to be as near to him as he could possibly be. 

“Alexander,” Magnus repeated, bringing his hands up to frame Alec’s face, pulling away a fraction so that their lips were now just barely brushing. “You don’t,” he mumbled, his thumb tracing Alec’s bottom lip. “Hate me, I mean.” 

“I don’t,” Alec agreed simply, his voice barely above a whisper. He traced his fingernails along the skin of Magnus’ hips, his stomach, his chest. He had already mapped out Magnus’ body completely, saving it to his memory, down to each and every freckle. Goosebumps rose on the skin beneath his fingers and he felt Magnus shiver against him. 

“It’s my choice, Alexander,” Magnus said shakily, cupping Alec’s jaw. “And I choose you.” 

“Aren’t you scared?” Alec asked, leaning into Magnus’ touch, nuzzling his hand.

“Terrified,” Magnus breathed, his lips brushing Alec’s. 

“It’s just…I can’t even think about the possibility of you dying, Magnus,” Alec’s breath hitched in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get those images out of his head. “It would ruin me and- and I don’t know how I could keep living without you. And then I think about you and I know that one day you’re going to have to do that, and I just can’t _bare_ the thought of you hurting so much. Every time I look at you I feel so selfish. I want this, more than I have ever wanted anything in my entire life, but at what cost?” Alec trailed off. On one hand, he knew Magnus should agree with him, to say that they weren’t good for each other, and that they couldn’t go on pretending that everything was alright any longer. But on the other hand, Alec wanted so desperately to throw caution to the wind, to say fuck it to fate, and just _love_. 

“I will love you for the rest of my life, Alexander, no matter the consequences,” Magnus assured, smoothing the lines between Alec’s brows with his thumb. 

“How do you do that?” Alec breathed, his hands running over every inch of Magnus that he could touch. It felt like Magnus was the only thing grounding him to the Earth, the only thing keeping him steady. 

“Do what?” Magnus’ voice was hardly a whisper. 

Alec’s hands twisted into the sleeves of Magnus’ unnecessarily fancy shirt, wrinkling it under his fingers. He could feel the tremors throughout his entire body but no matter how many times he willed them to go away, they just kept coming. “You make it seem like everything is going to be okay,” Alec said, as Magnus began to pepper kisses all over his face. Both of his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, the corner of his mouth. 

“Just tell me what you need,” Magnus mumbled. 

Alec pressed his forehead to Magnus’ and sighed against his lips. “Say it,” he breathed, his voice almost begging. “My name.” 

Alec could not have said how long they stood there in each other’s arms on that cold New York night. It could have been hours, days even. He knew that eventually they would have to face this fight again, but for now, Alec was content with just _forgetting_. 

Alec had heard once that wars used to be fought over love, and he wondered what kind of love could be so strong that men were willing to die to acquire it. He did not have to wonder anymore. Alec did not have to wonder if he was willing to die just to hear the sound of his name coming from the lips of the man he loved. 

Why? 

He already knew.

“ _Alexander, Alexander, Alexander…_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> this is angsty as fuck im sorry !!!!!! jk im not !!!!!!! comments/kudos are always appreciated :) you can find me on tumblr dot com @lightwoody !!!!!


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